


Counting Bruises

by days_of_storm



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Ram POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm
Summary: So, I just watched My Engineer over the weekend after Mazarin221b mentioned it and had to write this. I cannot believe to what lengths this show took their mutual pining. This is, as undoubtedly most fics about Ram and King, set after episode 14.I realise that King stays with his grandmother for 10 days in the novel, but I'm just gonna ignore this.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 208





	Counting Bruises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mazarin221b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/gifts).



> So, I just watched My Engineer over the weekend after Mazarin221b mentioned it and had to write this. I cannot believe to what lengths this show took their mutual pining. This is, as undoubtedly most fics about Ram and King, set after episode 14.
> 
> I realise that King stays with his grandmother for 10 days in the novel, but I'm just gonna ignore this.

Ram knew he would forever feel the pressure of King’s hand against his chest; the moment, when fight had won over his flight instinct, and brought it home to him that King really did feel what he had hoped he would. It hadn’t hurt much, really, considering how hard he was usually punched during boxing matches, but for a second, he had been truly afraid that King wanted to push him away – physically, after he had done it with words before. The relief that came after replaced the pain with an entirely different pressure in his chest.

He would also forever feel the burning pain of King’s fingernails as they had dug into his skin while his wound was treated at the hospital. And he would also forever carry the pressure of his palm against his own. Holding on to him as if he was somehow able to make it all better. 

He would forever carry the triple bruises on his heart from seeing him hurt – first, at the park after the attack by the madman – second, the moment of panic as he had seen him go under in the pond – tied closely together with the relief of seeing him emerge again – and third, the moment when he found him on the stairs of the HQ cabin, passed out and feverish. He would never forget how his heart had stopped beating, each time more painfully, when he considered that King might be taken away from him before he could tell him how he felt. 

He would forever feel the burning sensation his finger had left on his skin when he had touched his tattoo, two nights before they left for camp, when he woke up in pain and Ram had brought him a painkiller. The sensation had been so strong he couldn't help but push his hand away, afraid of what he might do if his touch lingered there any longer. And he still felt his hand on his own, as he tried to make him feel better about his nightmares. He had been incredibly relieved when he had fallen asleep again, but he had pressed the back of his hand against his lips all night, imagining it was King's hand.

But as he considered the many different kinds of bruises King had left on him, he treasured every single one of them. 

He did his best trying not to smile too hard during the bus ride home after camp. He had already noticed that his friends had picked up on his changed mood and he did not want to be teased. Not more than necessary. His battery was running low and for a moment he hoped that King would suggest listening to his music instead, but when he turned his head, he felt something in his chest contract painfully as he stared at the empty seat next to him. 

He had texted King, but as his battery was low, and he hadn’t answered yet, he knew he wouldn’t know what King thought until he would be home again. Well, not quite home, but at King’s condo. A jungle and a safe space, well, except for King’s nephews, but a place which meant peace of mind and a friend who let him be himself. _A friend, ha_. He had to cover his own mouth to hide the wide smile that he couldn’t force away. 

He should have dreaded returning to Bangkok, but the emotional turmoil that last night’s kiss had awakened in him made the issue of his father’s affair with his best friend seem almost unimportant. When he thought about it, allowing himself to wallow in his pain for a moment, it felt more distant. He didn’t immediately want to break down anymore and he did not want to destroy something in order not to turn his violent thoughts against his father. 

Telling King – no, King realising on his own – had been a surprising relief, even if he still had no idea whether he should tell his mother or not. 

Some tumult broke out on the bus and he was distracted from his musings as his friends loudly discussed where they would go out tonight.

Another night of drinking, Ram sighed. Seeing his friends drink each other under the table wasn’t necessarily something he enjoyed, but at least he was always sober enough to make sure they got home safely. He wondered how drunk King had been, yesterday. Had he played at being unable to walk on his own? He had been distracted by the game, and by trying not to stare at King all the time, so he had lost track of how many glasses he had had. But he should have kept him from drinking, considering his injury and the fever the night before. 

And yet, maybe without the alcohol, he wouldn’t have pushed him. And he wouldn’t have told him, the pain so clearly written on his face.

And he wouldn’t have kissed him.

Ram shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the spark of heat that settled in his groin. The moment he understood what King was telling him. The moment when he finally knew what he had suspected from the first day they had met. The moment when his heart had done a backflip in his chest and he knew that he had made the right choice in trusting him. In allowing himself to be hurt. 

He woke with a start. The bus had stopped and someone was squeezing his shoulder. He was aware enough not to hope that the hand belonged to King. “Come on, we’re back,” Tang said gently. “Are you alright?”

He nodded and then left the bus, his mind blissfully foggy. He had been afraid that his mother or, worse, his father would be there to pick him up, but nobody had come. He would need to speak to his mom eventually, to make her understand why he couldn’t be home right now, but if he could make this about him being head over heels in love with the most considerate and gentle man he had ever met, it might be a better explanation than his cheating father. 

He hailed a taxi after saying good bye to his friends, reminding Duen to take things slow with Bohn. He would have to ask King about Bohn, because the alarm bells were still ringing every time he saw his best friend with him. He didn’t trust him, even if Bohn had unintentionally added to the pleasurable pain that bound him to King. 

He had absolutely meant to beat Bohn at the boxing match and he was sure he would have won had Duen not intervened. But he hadn’t been at his best that day, because King had watched him. He had watched him half naked and sweating and it had been more of a distraction than he had been willing to admit. At that point, it had been wishful thinking more than anything, but he had seen him steal glances. And he had seen his worried expression when Bohn had managed to break through his defences. 

At one point, he had purposefully kept his guard down and watched King’s face as Bohn’s glove landed on his chin. And then later, another fist in his stomach. The pain from that had kept him from picking up his keys when King had met him outside after the match. 

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the taxi window, trying to make himself feel bad about loving the pain King had caused him. He didn’t succeed. 

When he unlocked the condo he was greeted by humid air and the strange smell the multitude of plants gave off. He stopped for a moment and breathed everything in. The dogs were staying with Duen’s family, so the spare room would be his alone for the time being. But he would sleep in King’s bed, no matter what. He just hoped that, once he was back, King wouldn’t insist on taking the couch. 

He would argue that he didn’t trust his injury to have healed entirely and that he wanted to be there to see how he was doing, painkillers at the ready in case they were needed. 

After taking a shower, he looked at himself in the mirror. He had expected a hand shaped bruise across his sternum, but there wasn’t a trace of it. Only the pressure he still felt. 

Hoping he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he misted the plants that he believed needed to be misted and then he sat down at King’s desk, picking up a book on horticulture he had been reading. He had no idea when King would be back – and not knowing added to the low burn in his tummy. He was anxious to see him again, but he also dreaded the conversation they would have. He would need to address his own feelings, and he wasn’t any good at that even with the people who were closest to him. 

Eventually he found his thoughts drifting off too often and he closed the book. 

He made himself some dinner before lying down in King’s bed, hugging his pillow and breathing in the smell of his shampoo. Suddenly, he sat upright. He hadn’t plugged in his phone yet, so he had no idea whether King had responded to his text. 

Climbing off the bed, he realised that he had grown hard, hugging the pillow. He was both grateful and disappointed that King wasn’t there to see it. He got his phone and charger and returned to bed. After a few minutes, the phone had enough battery power for him to switch it on. 

When he checked his messages, all he saw was the reading confirmation of his own message from this morning. He dropped back with a frustrated sigh and pushed his free hand into his shorts. His fingers shook when he opened the photo of the two of them by the waterfall. King’s open and honest face, the small smile indicating that he was happy to be right where he was. 

Ram closed his eyes and moved his hand faster, imagining that they hadn’t just kissed last night. That he would have allowed his hand to sneak under King’s shirt, and to pull it up and over his head. But the moment had been too precious. The admission too emotional for both of them to go any further than they had. But he had fallen asleep in his arms that night, and Ram had lain awake for a long time, trying not to move but feeling as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest. When King had moved slightly and thrown his arm across his chest, he had been sure that his hammering heartbeat would wake him up. 

With a desperate grunt, Ram pulled his hand out of his shorts and glared at his erection. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do it in King’s bed. Not without him being there. Not without him being okay. 

To distract himself, he dug his own fingernails into the still slightly sore spots on his hand. The pain helped only a little, because he imagined that there might be other reasons why King’s fingernails would dig into his skin and this time it wouldn’t be pain and a fear of needles that was the cause. 

He flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, willing himself to think of something, anything else. 

When he woke up, he was disoriented for a moment. Then he remembered where he was and then an entirely new pain settled in his chest. King still wasn’t there. 

He picked up his phone and began typing a message. Then he deleted it again and started once more. _When are you coming home?_ His finger hovered over the send button, but then he added an _I miss you_. He deleted and retyped that twice. Finally he put down the phone without having sent anything, and he stared at the ceiling, trying to calm down. When he felt a little braver, he picked it up again and accidentally pressed send when he saw that King was typing. 

The moment his own message had been sent, King stopped typing. 

Ram grunted in frustration and hid his face in the pillow. When his phone pinged, he sat up. He felt like throwing up when he reached for it. 

Duen had written to ask if he was alright. He almost threw the phone against the wall in frustration. This wouldn’t do. He needed to get rid of the nervous energy that kept threatening to spill over. He got up and pulled his gym outfit out of his bag. Then he left a note on the kitchen table, saying he had gone to work out, just in case King returned while he was out. 

He ran until his legs couldn’t carry him any longer and then he did press ups until his arms shook before doing sit ups until his stomach burned. His coach told him to take it easy, but he refused to take a break and spent the better part of an hour on footwork and pivots before taking a long, scalding shower. 

As he took the stairs to King’s apartment, he knew he would be sore tomorrow, but at least there was something else than the distracting pressure of King’s body against his own to concentrate on. 

He unlocked the door and dropped his bag at his feet as soon as he stepped into the flat, before he leaned back against the door to close it. He stayed like this for a moment, his eyes closed. Then, as he inhaled deeply, he realised something smelled differently. He opened his eyes to find King standing in the middle of the living room, his hair and body wet and only a towel around his hips. 

Ram stared at him, unable to take his eyes off the man who had all but declared his love for him two nights ago. 

“Hi,” King said, brushing hair out of his eyes only to have it fall back immediately. 

Ram wished he had his phone with him, but it still rested on King’s bed, where he had left it before running off to take his mind off him. With a flash of embarrassment he realised that King must have seen it there. Well, he would have known that he had slept in his bed, because he hadn’t made it before leaving. He became painfully aware of how hot his face was growing. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make the bed,” Ram said, staring at his feet. 

“Ram,” King took a step towards him and Ram looked up. He never called him by his name. From his lips it sounded like an endearment, more so, than his usual nickname. “Can we talk?”

Ram nodded and picked up his bag from the floor before he toed off his shoes. He tried not to stare as he passed King to take his bag into the bedroom. He pocketed his phone without looking at it and then made the bed as quickly as he could. When he turned around, he found King in the door, watching him. 

“How is your grandma?” Ram asked, assuming that small talk would help, but even as he said it he knew that King knew that he wasn’t interested and he didn’t ask out of politeness either. When King stepped into the room, Ram had to hide his hands behind his back. He did not want King to see how much they shook. 

He was more than disappointed when King changed direction and went to his wardrobe to pick out fresh clothes. When King laid them out across the bed, he suddenly knew that he was trying to make it easy for him. He had found a way to allow him to start that conversation without a single word. 

So he kept looking at him, allowing his eyes to wander down, across his chest and to his stomach, to his hips and the towel which showed a dent now where there hadn’t been one before. 

Ram swallowed hard and a small moan escaped him. King’s eyes widened and Ram looked up, meeting his gaze, feeling naked even though he was fully dressed and King was the almost naked one. When his eyes moved back down, King dropped the towel. 

For a few seconds, all he could do was stare at him. Then he noticed that his hands had stopped shaking. “Do you want me to …” he plucked half-heartedly at his sweatshirt and King nodded, his eyes still wide, almost panicked. Ram pulled his sweatshirt over his head along with his undershirt and the way King’s body language changed from awkwardly aroused to confident set his entire body alight. 

King abandoned the clothes he had left on the bed and stepped closer. “Those, too,” he said, his voice gentle. Ram held up his leg and he couldn’t help but smile when King cocked his head and laughed. “You are …” he started, but he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he pulled on the leg of Ram’s trousers which he unbuttoned at the same time. 

“This isn’t working,” King complained and leaned down to pluck his other leg up, pulling at the same time and causing Ram to drop back onto the bed. He lifted his arse and King finally managed to pull his trousers off. When he pushed himself up on his elbows, King shook his head. “Oh no, you are staying right where you are.”

Ram licked his lips, desperately wanting some water. He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he felt parched. Maybe, since his body had gone out of panic mode, he recognised other needs again. He swallowed drily and licked his lips again, feeling horrified that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy kissing King. To his surprise, King nodded and disappeared for a moment only to return with a water bottle. 

“How did you know?” Ram asked when King opened it for him. 

King smiled and took the bottle back, drinking deeply. “I feel the same,” he simply said. “Better now?”

Ram nodded and exhaled. He couldn’t believe that in all of this, the undoubtedly most erotic thing he had ever experienced, King was ready to drop everything to make him feel good. “I’m sorry,” Ram started and held out his hand. King looked down on the bottle in his hand, but Ram shook his head. The smile that followed made his heart ache. King carefully climbed on top of him, and when Ram realised he wasn’t going to move all the way into his lap, he planted his hands on his buttocks and pulled him against him until he could feel his hardness against his stomach while his own erection was trapped in his underwear. 

The moan that escaped King made his spine tingle. “Listen,” he said, pushing himself up to be in kissing distance. “I’m sorry about yesterday morning. I should have told you. I didn’t know what you remembered and I did not want to … assume that you did.”

“I thought I was going to die,” King said and pressed his forehead against Ram’s. “I thought that I had finally gotten to kiss you and that it would be the first time and the last.”

Ram smiled and tipped up his chin to kiss him gently. “Me, too.” 

“Is this okay?” King asked, pointing down. Ram bit his lip and nodded. 

“May I … take them off?”

Ram smiled. “Please.”

King kissed him and pushed him back down. He gently touched the dream catcher tattoo behind his ear only to trace the line of his jaw with his thumb before he move down to the tattoo on his chest. When his fingers brushed his nipple, Ram gasped, feeling himself twitch in his shorts. He wasn’t sure how long he would last once King had undressed him entirely. 

When King leaned down to kiss his throat, Ram wasn’t sure whether would even make it to that point. He arched up, causing King to move his hips a little. “Please!” he moaned, not quite knowing what he wanted. 

“I’m sorry,” King’s breath tickled his throat and he had to force himself to keep his hand from moving into his hair. He would have to wait until his wound had healed. Instead, he clasped his shoulders. 

“Please,” he begged again, trying to push him down. 

Finally, King moved off him and then off the bed, grinning as he pulled down Ram’s shorts. Ram blushed, despite himself, when King stopped his movement to look at him. To dissipate his embarrassment, Ram pulled his legs out of his underwear, making a face at King when he looked up in surprise. 

What he hadn’t expected was that, instead of moving back onto the bed, King knelt down in front of it and then pulled on his hips until he was almost sitting on the edge of the bed. When King looked up at him while pulling him between his lips, Ram was almost sure he would come right there and then. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget the many, many times he had started at King’s mouth, hoping to one day feel his lips on his body. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” he gasped when he realised that he couldn’t. “Stop, King, please! I’ll …”

“I want you to. Please, please come for me, Ram,” King said, his hand wrapped around him and his lips wet and a little swollen. 

It was all he could do to nod. King smiled and pulled him back between his lips and, using one hand to stroke him, he swirled his tongue around him. It was the most indecent and pleasurable thing Ram had ever felt. 

He dropped back onto the bed and tried very hard not to arch up again. When he came, King pressed down one hand against his stomach, holding him down on the bed with unexpected strength. His own settled on top of it and he squeezed it with every shudder that ran through him as he slowly calmed down. Finally, King turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers. 

“Thank you,” King said when he emerged from the floor. 

Ram laughed and pulled hard on his arm, and with a squeal, King landed on top of him. 

“I should say thank you,” he said, kissing him. King moaned against his lips. 

“I have an idea or two how you could do that,” King finally retorted and Ram had to smile, because the implied joke fell flat with every second that had passed between their words. When King blushed, Ram kissed him again, much more passionately, and finally pushed him off him. Then he threw one leg across King’s to hold him in place and wrapped his hand around his erection. 

King’s eyes fluttered closed and Ram kissed him again, knowing already that kissing him would become one of his favourite things in the entire world. 

He stroked him much like he had stoked himself last night, feeling guilty about jerking off in King’s bedroom. And now, so many questions had been answered and so many unspoken words did not need to be spoken. 

He watched King’s face closely. The way his lips twitched at the end of every stroke, the way his eyelids fluttered. His pulse, strong and fast in his neck. He looked so beautiful like this. 

“Look at me,” he whispered when he sped up a little, feeling him harden against his fingers, knowing he was getting close. “Please!”

King opened his eyes and locked eyes with him. Ram felt it all the way down into his toes. He moaned in reaction to the overwhelming feeling and King’s eyes widened and he spilled over, his breath rushing out in sharp gasps. He laughed when it became too much and Ram pulled his hand away. After considering it for a moment, he wiped it on King’s chest. 

They grinned at each other, both giddy with relief. Then King reached out and touched him right where his hand had landed two nights ago. “I’m sorry. I simply couldn’t take it anymore. The way you looked at me, it drove me mad. I couldn’t not touch you. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Ram sighed and smiled and King’s expression softened at that. “It didn’t hurt, really. Not physically.”

King shook his head and kissed him and when he wanted to pull away, Ram followed him and continued the kiss. Hearing King admit again that he wanted him, truly, felt very similar to when he had won that one match during nationals. He was elated and simultaneously quite certain that he would never feel this amazing again. 

“I wanted to kiss you all the time,” King admitted. “But you always seemed so ...”

“Cold? Distant?”

“Oh, because of what I call you?” King smiled. “No, it’s not that. You always seemed so … contented. Like you did not need me. Like you knew what you wanted and you let me tag along. You seemed very …”

Ram shook his head. “I was terrified of saying something stupid. Something that would drive you away.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ram shook his head. “I’m sorry, too.”

King moved to the edge of the bed and picked up the wet towel. He wiped his stomach clean and then his cock and Ram automatically reached out to touch him, wanting to see how he felt, soft and warm. He smiled when King squirmed and pushed his hand away. “Thank you for writing the message. I don’t think I could have handled not knowing.”

“Why didn’t you write back?”

“I did. I wrote you an entire essay, but I couldn’t send it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I needed to see your face while you read it.”

“I don’t understand.”

King got off the bed and went into the bathroom. He returned with his phone and pressed a few buttons. Ram’s phone came alive. It didn’t stop chiming for quite some time and he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw King blushing harder with every message. 

Ram sat up, crossed his legs and began reading. It was a history of their friendship, but each message contained a moment in which King outlined how being with him had made him feel. Being saved from the dog, and not quite knowing whether Ram was sane, but seeing him be so gentle with the dog that he knew in his heart he had to be a good person. The moment he had first spoken to him and how he hadn’t stopped smiling all evening. Line after line after line, King had written down all the little things he liked about Ram and slowly he realised that what he thought would be one wonderful but fragile moment, would very likely be an entire series of highs. 

When he looked up, he had to blink tears away to see King properly. “Thank you,” he said and then wiped his face. King, who had sat on the edge of the bed as he had watched him read, leaned over and kissed him. 

“Please stay. Not just until you have figured out what to do about your family. But stay here, with me?”

“Can we get a dog?” Ram asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin when King’s eyes widened in fear. “Just joking. I guess your plants are your pets, hmm?”

King pushed him hard enough to make him fall back onto the mattress, but this time he did not look sorry at all. Then he pushed his legs apart and settled between them. “You know that they grow best when you talk to them?”

Ram wrapped his legs around his hips and smiled when he felt King stir. “Hmm, just like something else.”

King laughed and kissed him again. “Thank you for not leaving me alone, despite of what I said.”

Ram inhaled shakily, torn between arousal and the need to have everything out in the open. “I couldn’t leave you. Not without knowing why.”

“You are a braver man than I am.”

Ram kissed him and then nodded. “Yes, I guess I am.”

King laughed and hid his face in the crook of his neck. 

They stayed in bed all day, called in delivery for lunch only to tumble back into bed afterwards, limbs entangled and lips never far from the other’s. 

Eventually, Ram fell asleep properly and woke up what felt like hours later to the feeling of something tickling and wet on the spot just below his left ear. He lifted his hand to see what it was, but he stopped when he realised King was kneeling behind him and that he held a marker in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” Ram asked, before yawning heartily. 

“Give me a minute. I’m almost finished.” He handed him a new water bottle. “Drink some. You had a bad dream, and you said the dream catcher doesn’t do the work. So I’m improving it.”

Ram had to admit that he loved the feeling, now that he knew it was a pen’s felt tip and King’s gentle fingers against his neck. He sighed contentedly. 

When King closed the marker and sat back with a satisfied smile, Ram reached for his phone and took a picture of his neck. 

Right next to his dream catcher, in more intricate detail than Ram had ever seen anyone draw on skin with marker, King had drawn a purple flower.


End file.
